The Paths Home: Came In From a Rainy Thursday
by Muse's Inspiration
Summary: Companion to Bleak Desolation & I'm Not a Man Who Falls Too Easily. You should read those first, to understand some of this story.


**The Paths Home: Came In From a Rainy Thursday**

**Type of Story: **Series (**The Paths Home:)**

**Characters: **Most all from the X-Men movies

**Feedback:** Emily_joyner@ureach.com  (_Please_?? I love feedback!!)

**Disclaimer**:  I don't own them; I only play with them… 

**Additional Disclaimer**:  I'd like to **_think_ that I'm being original here, but more than likely I'm not.  If anyone else has read anything like this, please let me know so that I can give credit where it's due!**

**Song fic**:  Ordinary World by Duran Duran

(Words in _italics are song lyrics)_

**Companion piece to Bleak Desolation and I'm Not a Man Who Falls Too Easily.**

**A/N I: **I would like to thank everyone for their reviews of the first two fictions to this series.  I had to do some formatting work and lost the original reviews in the process, but again, you have my thanks and appreciation!

_Came in from a rainy Thursday_

_On the Avenue_

_Thought I heard you talking softly._

Ororo walked into the mansion after shopping that afternoon and paused in the foyer.  She looked around at the walls, the spiraling staircase, the paintings, the rugs, but she didn't really see any of them.  All she saw were her memories of Jean.  And in the faintest field of her hearing, it was almost like she could hear Jean's soft, cultured voice speaking to her, reminding her of how much she missed her best friend.

_I turned on the lights, the TV, and the radio_

_Still I can't escape the ghost of you._

_What has happened to it all?  
Crazy, some would say._

_Where is the life that I recognize?_

_… Gone away…_

Ororo sadly made her up the stairs and to her suite of rooms and stopped in the doorway of the darkened main room.  She dreaded going in there sometimes, the memories her rooms contained were numerous.  She reached in the doorway and flicked on the lights and made her way over to her entertainment center.  She proceeded to turn on the TV (on the Weather Channel, of course) and the radio where calming classical music began flowing out, settling her.  But still, on the farthest edges of her senses, she could almost hear Jean.

She turned and looked at all of the framed photographs on her table and smiled sadly.  Jean always looked so vibrantly alive, the air almost humming around her from her vitality.  Jean swore it was because she was a redhead and that if she dyed her hair brown, no one would notice her.  But Ororo knew it was actually Jean herself.  Especially after her abilities started to get stronger.  But at no point did Ororo ever think of her as anything other than 'Jean – Best Friend'.

Sometimes, the ache of missing her got to be too much.  Ororo would sit and look out her window, holding the charm bracelet with the little lightening bolts on it and cry.  Kurt would always know and he'd come and comfort her.  She'd always ask the same thing of him: "What is happening?  Why?"

And he'd always have the same answer: "It's crazy.  There is no reason.  It just is."  

He'd hold her and she'd accept his comfort.  Her old life was gone now.  She didn't recognize her new one.  All that remained was madness, it seemed.

_But I won't cry for yesterday_

_There's an ordinary world_

_Somehow I have to find._

_And as I try to make my way _

_To the ordinary world_

_I will learn to survive._

This particular Thursday was different, though.  Ororo watched as the rain washed away the chalk on the back patio from where the children had been drawing.  She watched as the red chalk drawing of a fire truck blended into one large red splotch and began washing into the flower beds.  It was then that she knew.  She would always miss Jean, but she had to come back to the world.  She had to live.  Ororo would learn to survive.

_Passion or coincidence_

_Once prompted you to say_

_"Pride will tear us both apart."_

Charles looked out the windows of his study and remembered Erik's words.  They were younger men then, headstrong, full of ideals, full of pride.  Ironic that Erik would be the one to be right.  He had stated to Charles during their final argument that finally ended their associations that their pride would be their downfall.  'Foolish Pride' Charles believed Erik called it.

He sat there and thought about Jean and how much he missed her.  She had been like a daughter to him and he'd loved her dearly.  His original three students: Ororo, Scott and Jean, all held special places in his heart, but Jean had been different.  There was the mental bond he'd shared with her due to her telepathic abilities.  It pained him greatly not have that comforting presence on the edges of his being.  He could only imagine how Scott must be feeling.

He knew from the link she'd used to communicate with Scott that she'd believed that she would survive the explosion of water.  But he felt the moment she realized that this was not going to be the case.  He felt her acceptance and he felt her sorrow at leaving them.  But he would never forget her final works to him, before she closed the link…

"It's not your fault."

_Well now pride's gone out the window, across the rooftops, run away_

_Left me in the vacuum of my heart._

_What is happening to me?  
Crazy, some would say._

_Where is my friend when I need you most?_

_… Gone away…_

It was his fault, however.  Erik was right.  Charles' pride and arrogance had brought them this pain.  His pride had nearly cost all of the helpless children at the mansion their home.  His pride had, in fact, actually killed humans and mutants alike while he was in the second Cerebro.  His pride had brought pain and suffering to millions.  And now he could only feel gaping emptiness in his heart.  His pain and guilt were overwhelming him to the point of almost being blank in everything.  Combined with the grief within the mansion, it was taking everything Charles had in him not to succumb to the madness threatening to overtake him.  He didn't understand what was happening to him.  But he knew he needed Erik.  He needed to talk to Erik about everything that had been happening.  But Erik was gone and Charles couldn't find him.

_Papers in the roadside tell of suffering and greed_

_Feared today, forgot tomorrow._

_Here beside the news of holy wars and holy need_

_Ours is just a little sorrow, that's all._

Charles looked over at the newspapers on his desk and felt an aching sadness.  His whole world had just fallen apart; people had died tragic deaths, millions suffered at his hands, and all that the news reported were bombings in foreign restaurants and political scandals involving faceless cabinet members and assistants.  Agendas that had been feared and conspired against had been forgotten about with the news about Holy Jihads and Pope assassination attempts.  In the grand scheme of things, his grief over Jean and Erik were nameless and unimportant and it offended him.  He'd lost his daughter and lost his best friend all over again.  And he didn't know if he could get through this war any longer.  It was wearing on him.

_But I won't cry for yesterday_

_There's an ordinary world_

_Somehow I have to find._

_And as I try to make my way _

_To the ordinary world_

_I will learn to survive._

This particular Thursday was different, though.  Charles watched as the rain washed away the chalk on the back patio from where the children had been drawing.  He watched as the red chalk drawing of a fire truck blended into one large red splotch and began washing into the flower beds.  He could feel Ororo grieving in her suite of rooms, he could sense Scott and Marie comforting each other, and he could tell Logan was healing from the heartache.  It was then that he knew.  He would always miss his beautiful daughter.  He would always love her.  He would cherish her memory.  But he had to bring himself back to the world and he had to honor her sacrifice.  He would live.  He would learn to survive.


End file.
